High Flyer No More
by DevlinV1
Summary: [FIN:2003:Slash] Rob Van Dam was on top of the world when the ladder broke and sent him to a near fatal landing. Paralyzed from the waist down, Rob has to move on, but when he learns his accident was intentional, survival becomes more important.
1. Chapter 1

**High Flyer No More**

**By Archangel**

_**Chapter 1**_

This was his element. This was everything he had always wanted, always lived for, and had done all his life. He was one of the lucky few privileged enough to be allowed into the sacred square circle. Surrounded by thousands of people who were all screaming his name at the top of their lungs. It was deafening. It was incredible. In his element was an understatement when putting someone like Rob Van Dam into a ladder match for the Intercontinental Title Belt. But right at that moment it hurt like hell.

_Note to self: ladders hurt_

He was so tired. Sweat poured down his body and soaked into his clothes and hair. He could hear his own panting breath even over the noise of the crowd. And not far away from him he could hear the clang of metal.

_The ladder._

He raised his head from his resting spot to see the tallest ladder set up once again in the center of the ring. His opponent, Christian, was slowly making his way to the top. Christian was battle torn and sluggish, but Rob could almost see the gold of the suspended belt glitter in the other man's eyes as he gazed upward.

_That belt is mine._

He forced his aching body off the mat, muscles tensing and spasming, screaming in protest. Even his agile form could only take so much abuse before it demanded rest. Less than a minute of simply lying in the ring did barely anything for him. Still, he rushed at the ladder, climbing up to meet Christian at the top. He loved the annoyed expression on his opponent's face when he was noticed. He threw a punch at Christian's glare, hitting the side of his head when he looked away.

_Fine, I'll knock you out if I have to._

He punched the side of his head again and again, but Christian lunged forward with a hard swipe. The ladder rocked with the impact on Rob's side. It was going over, no doubt about it. Before it was too late Rob gave Christian a rough shove to his chest, sending him falling in the opposite direction. The ladder tilted to dump Rob off. Looking for a safe place to land brought it to his attention that another ladder was set up in the corner. He leapt for it and somehow managed to keep his balance as well as make sure this ladder didn't topple with the last. It was another one as tall as the first.

_How convenient. Now where's the creepy little bastard?_

Rob looked behind him to see Christian sprawled on his back on the opposite side of the ring. He was lying perfectly diagonal to the corner. Rob's eyes flashed brighter at the obvious opportunity. He was clear across on the other side of the ring, though, with the fallen ladder in between the two of them. He wouldn't have time (or energy) to run to the other turnbuckle in time to deliver the 5-Star Frog Splash. He looked towards the top of the ladder. His limbs started him to the top before he even thought it completely through.

_I can reach him. I can fucking fly when I'm in the ring._

He stopped about three steps away from the top and carefully turned around, grasping onto the ladder behind his back. He looked down at Christian, who still hadn't moved an inch. Rob had a feeling he may be unconscious, but he was taking no chances. As he pushed himself up to the next step he looking around at the crowd as if to ask their opinion. The cheering seemed to be getting louder. They agreed. He could go higher. With some very careful maneuvering, feeling the ladder wobble and shake dangerously underneath him, Rob got to the very top step. As he positioned his feet he could plainly see the sticker that said, 'Do Not Stand On Top Rung.'

_I can do this. I've done crazier things before. Well, kind of._

He stood up as straight as he could, looking to the crowd. He could see the signs that bore his initials. He could see his fans already doing his classic thumb hook taunt. They wanted him to do it. They knew that he could do it. He couldn't help the smirk that came to his lips as he raised his arms, chanting his own name along with the crowd as he taunted them right back. Before he could finish, though, something went wrong. There was a loud metallic snap and the ladder rocked back and forth underneath him. He struggled to keep his balance, the instinct to duck down and grab onto the ladder pushing him to a squat. It was already too late, though, and the ladder nearly collapsed beneath him and Rob was sent tumbling backwards. He could see the lights suspended from the ceiling of the arena. He thought for sure he heard screams of terror all around him. Yet, his mind was clear and eerily calm. Not a thought went through him and then it all went black.

Christian heard that familiar chant start and it told him two things would be a good idea right now. He could either roll out of the way or stay put and take whatever was coming. If he rolled, he might catch Rob in the middle of it and injure both of them severely. Or he might roll right into a better position for Rob to slaughter him. On the other hand, if he stayed put he could just tense up and take it like a man.

_Wait, they didn't finish the chant. They're screaming._

Christian opened his eyes, and at the very corner of his vision he saw a flash of silver. He turned his head just in time to see Rob fall backwards from a ladder that had obviously broken. Christian joined the crowd in their cries of shock as he saw Rob's back hit the top of the turnbuckle, his body nearly folding completely in half before rebounding and completing its path to the concrete below. Christian forgot his aches and pains completely, not feeling anything as he jumped to his feet and rushed over to the ropes. He gave a quick glance to see Rob curled on his side near the corner of the ring. He hopped over the ropes, nearly falling to his knees when he landed, and scrambled to Rob's side.

"Rob! Rob, are you okay?"

_Dumb question._

Christian looked up to see the paramedics already running down the ramp to help. He looked back down at his fellow wrestler with the deepest of concern. That was when he noticed the position that Rob was in. He seemed curled up into the fetal position except for one thing. His lower body was turned in a completely different position. His eyes widened as realization dawned on him and his gaze focused on the blood that leaked from Rob's parted lips. He was shoved aside roughly by a paramedic.

_Oh my god. He's dead. Rob's dead._

"He's breathing and we've got a normal pulse rate," the man reported to his partner as he checked Rob over. "Eyes are rolled back. He's unconscious. Call for a stretcher. This match is over."

Christian was relieved to hear his worst fears denied. He stepped forward again and took the paramedic's shoulder.

"Did you see him fall? He landed on the turnbuckle."

"What part of him hit it?"

"His lower back. He folded right over the top of it before hitting the floor."

"You saw it happen and didn't try to prevent it?"

Christian blinked in shock. "I was on the other side of the ring!"

"It's not that big of a ring, bud. Why don't you go get your title now?"

Christian backed up, looking at the man in shock. Had he actually just been blamed for Rob's fall? Maybe it was kind of his fault. He had watched as it happened. He didn't even bother to get up until after it was already over. He watched in confusion and shock as the medics started preparing Rob for the stretcher, slowly trying to work the orange board behind him to strap him down. Through it all Rob remained unconscious; completely limp like a rag doll as they moved him. Some of the others were coming out from the back now to see what the situation was. Eric Bischoff, Steve Austin, and Booker T were all demanding the paramedics tell them exactly what was wrong.

_I didn't try to help him. I just watched him fall._

Someone touched Christian's arm to bring him out of his thoughts. It was Jericho. His face was filled with concern and some sadness.

"Come on, Christian. The show's over." Jericho started to lead him to the ramp, but Christian stopped for a moment and looked back at the title still suspended about the ring. "You wanna go get it?"

"No. That piece of gold isn't worth this." He put an arm around Jericho's shoulders, leaning on him slightly for support. "I never want that belt again."

He realized that he was awake, but had no desire to open his eyes. His head was throbbing in pain and he could see the bright lights even through his eyelids. It would only make his headache worse.

_Where am I?_

He shifted his shoulders slightly to feel that he was indeed in a bed, reclined to a half-sitting position. He remembered everything clearly. The match had been going great until he had fallen. He didn't remember the landing, though.

_I must've landed on my head. Blacked out. Another concussion._

Finally he opened his eyes slowly, looking around the white hospital room without much surprise. He had been in situations like this a few times before. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head lazily. He kind of enjoyed hospital visits sometimes. It gave him a good excuse to do absolutely nothing for once. On the other hand, he did tend to get restless rather quickly.

_Better buzz the nurse so they know I'm awake._

He looked around and saw the remote stuck with Velcro to the side of the table next to the bed. He turned to reach for it, but a sharp pain shot up his spine. He yelped and instantly his hand went to his lower back. Rob's instinctual reaction to pain had always been, since he was only a child, to kick his feet and grit his teeth as hard as possible. That was what stopped Rob completely. He looked down at himself, his legs and feet covered only by the thin hospital sheet.

_No. You've got to be kidding me._

He threw the sheet aside to see for himself. He was still all in one piece. His legs looked normal, tanned, corded with muscle, and covered in a thin layer of dark hair. His feet were their normal paler color from always being in socks and shoes. He stared at his feet intensely. His toes to be more exact. They weren't moving. He was trying with all his might to wiggle his toes and they weren't budging an inch.

"No, this isn't happening. This is not happening!"

He pushed himself up a little straighter in bed, reaching down to rest his hands on his knees. He could feel his kneecaps floating around under the skin; he could feel the warm skin and the rough hair. But he couldn't feel his hands upon his knees. As he sat back again, his hands slid up to his thighs. Still he felt nothing. There wasn't even a muscle twitch where he was ticklish on the inside of his thighs. He felt nothing. He couldn't move. His upper body was trembling; no, shivering as if the temperature in the room had dropped forty degrees. His hands rose to the sides of his head, grasping onto his hair as if he would yank it out.

"Calm down, Rob. This can't be right. Maybe it's just something temporary."

"Um, I'm afraid not, Mr. Van Dam."

Rob looked up at the woman who had just entered the room. Not a nurse, but a doctor. She wore the white coat that separated her from the rest. She had an expression full of remorse and a hint of nervousness.

"I'm… I'm p-paralyzed," he said flatly, not questioning it.

"I'm sorry. We did quite a few X-rays while you were still out. Do you remember anything about your fall?" she asked as she came to his bedside.

"Not really. I was standing on the top of the ladder, taunting the crowd, when I heard something break. Next thing I knew I was headed over backwards." He flopped back down against the pillows, grimacing at the slight pain in the part of his back that he could still feel. "Last thing I remember is seeing the lights above me and the catwalks and stuff. And I could hear people screaming. Not like normal. They were screaming like they were scared. I don't remember ever hitting the ground. I was just falling and then the lights went out and the screaming stopped. Then I woke up here."

"Hmm…" She wrote something down on the chart in her hands. "Well, Mr. Van Dam…"

"Call me Rob, please."

"Okay, Rob. I got a few reports from people who witnessed your fall. I haven't seen the tape yet, though, so I'm not sure precisely what happened. Your opponent that night… Um…"

"Christian."

"Yes. He spoke to me about what he had seen. Apparently he had the best view of all since he was in the ring. He said that after falling from the top of the ladder, you landed on your lower back on the turnbuckle. From there you flipped to the floor below."

Rob blinked at her and looked down at his legs again, trying to remember hitting the turnbuckle. There was nothing in his mind, though. All he could think about was the fact that he was paralyzed. He'd never walk again.

_I'll never wrestle again._

"Rob?"

"Huh?" He looked back at her, realizing she had been talking. "Sorry, this is…"

"I know." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "We have counselors that you can speak to about anything if you feel the need. In fact I highly recommend it with a case like yours. What I had been saying, is that Christian has been waiting here for quite a while. Last I saw he had gone to the cafeteria for something to eat. Do you want me to let him in when I see him?"

_Christian has been here? Why is he waiting around?_

"How long has he been here? How long have I been here?"

"About three hours already. We were worried you may have gone comatose on us." She caught his gaze again. "Do you want to see Christian?"

Rob shook his head. "No. No, I don't think I want to see anyone right now. Tell him I'm sorry."

"Okay. I'll just tell him you're too tired. Do you want me to tell him your situation or keep it quiet for right now?"

"You can tell him if you like. Everyone will know pretty soon anyway."

"I'll tell him if he asks. I'll let you get some rest. Tomorrow I have an MRI planned for you so we can go in and see exactly how much damage was done to your spine."

Rob rolled his eyes. "I'd say it's pretty much fucked, doc."

"I mean, we need to make sure there are no bone fragments that could cut your spinal cord. You don't want to be completely paralyzed do you?"

Rob glared at her. "Don't try to be a smartass right now, lady."

"That's my cue to let you sleep. I'll see you tomorrow bright and early." She patted his shoulder again. "I'm really very sorry, Rob. I know what this means to you."

"Yeah. You have a good bedside manner, doc. You can leave without a guilty conscience now."

If he could've turned onto his side away from her he would've. As it were he merely turned his head away, looking out the window. She dimmed the lights before she left. Still he stared out the window. He was on one of the higher floors so the only things visible were one or two other tall buildings and then the night sky beyond. He could make out a few stars despite the bright city lights.

_Stars. Looks like mine burned out. It's all over for me now. No more RVD. Just plain old Rob in a wheelchair. A wheelchair._

"Oh god," he whispered to the dark, covering his face with both hands as the tears began to fall.

Christian knocked on the dark mahogany door before pushing it open to stick his head in. A glance around the expansive office revealed no one to be inside so he stepped in. He glanced at his watch to see he was indeed right on time. It was Vince McMahon who was late.

"Christian is that you I hear out there?" came a voice from another door.

"Yes, sir," he answered, looking at the door in question.

"I'll be with you in just a moment."

Christian sighed, feeling awkward in Vince's office. Then again, who wouldn't feel uncomfortable in this situation. He heard a toilet flush and Vince emerged only a couple seconds later.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Have a seat." Christian sat down as Vince went over to the personal bar to get himself a drink. "You want anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself. I suppose you have a good notion as to why I asked you to come see me?"

"This is about last night's match?"

"Good guess." He came over to the desk and made himself comfortable in the luxurious leather chair. "I hate to talk about business while one of my men is lying in the hospital, but as you know the show must go on. So must business."

"I understand."

"Very well. Since obviously the match was never completely finished you retain the title. Now what—"

"What if I don't want it?" he interrupted.

Vince looked at him oddly. "Excuse me?"

"I don't want that belt." Christian frowned, shaking his head. "I don't even want to ever see it again."

"Why is that?"

"Because it was my greed and desire for that damn thing that caused all of this shit for Rob."

Christian had thought about everything for a long time. He had been given the opportunity since he had waited in Rob's hospital for three hours. Then he hadn't been able to sleep a wink. Thankfully Jericho and the Hurricane were around to keep him company a bit. They hadn't been able to stop his guilty thoughts, though. He had deduced everything down to the finest detail. The end result: Rob was paralyzed because of Christian's own greedy actions.

"Just how did you come up with that one?"

"Rob should've won the three way match between him, Jericho, and me. He was going to win, but I cheated."

"Yes, we all know that. We all saw it," Vince somewhat scolded.

"Except the ref. I wanted that belt so badly. I decided that I would do anything to get it. So I used it as a weapon and took Rob out. It was mine. I figured it was finally over and I wouldn't have to cheat again. Then Rob came after me. He wanted the belt more than I did. He owns that damn belt. It's like it was made for him. He was the rightful owner, but I didn't care. That's why I accepted the ladder match. Then he got hurt and I didn't even try to help him. I just lied there and watched. Now his whole life is ruined because of me."

"Aren't you going a little too far with this?" Vince asked.

"No," he said sternly, glaring at a man he was usually afraid of. "I won't take the belt. I didn't win it in the match. In fact I left it hanging there on purpose. So it's up for grabs. I refuse to accept it."

"Why do I get the feeling that I can't gently change your mind on this?"

"Because you can't."

"What if I tell you to defend the title or lose your job?"

Christian's jaw dropped. "What!"

"I don't care if you win the damn thing. You can go out there and lie down for all I care, but the rules simply are that you retain in a situation like this. So, next week your next title defense will be against Jericho."

"I don't want the damn thing either," Jericho said from behind them.

"Who invited you?" Vince demanded.

"You did. I'm just early." He came over to stand next to Christian's chair. "He's right. I never thought I'd say this in all my life, but I don't want the title. It belongs to Rob Van Dam."

"Well, I can't give it to him now. That man's career is finished. He's just damn lucky his insurance is paid up or he'd be in deeper shit than he already is."

"You're just going to fire him like that?" Christian exclaimed. "What if this isn't permanent?"

"I've already spoken to his doctors, boys. He's done. He'll get his remaining pay for the year, continued health insurance, but that's it. There's nothing I can do about it."

"Fuck," Jericho muttered, crossing his arms.

"That's what I was saying," Vince agreed.

"You know you're not going to get anyone to touch that title now, Mr. McMahon," Jericho said.

"Oh? I'm sure there's someone out there who wants it no matter what."

"I bet you're right," the blond locked man smirked, "but they won't want it after I talk to them."

Christian looked up at him. "Are you planning on threatening people?"

"Maybe. Mostly just simple persuasion." He chuckled and started back out the door. "I can't give too much of my plan away, though. We have a common enemy in the room right now, Christian."

With that, Jericho left and closed the door behind him. Christian couldn't believe Jericho was actually going to give up the title. Most of the time he was a gold digging jerk.

_Maybe Rob's accident freaked him out, too._

"Ah-hem," Vince cleared his throat, causing Christian to look at him again. "Common enemy?"

Christian just shrugged, feigning ignorance.

**End Chapter 1**

_Legalities: Christian Cage is copyright of TNA Wrestling. Chris Jericho is copyright to himself. Rob Van Dam, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


	2. Chapter 2

**High Flyer No More**

**By Archangel**

_**Chapter 2**_

Rob boredly moved back and forth in the wheelchair he had been given that morning. He had discovered quickly that it was a damn good thing he was a wrestler, because it required a lot of arm strength to push a 235 pound body around. It was relatively easy, though, sometimes rounding corners got to him. He sighed and spun around in a small circle by holding the left wheel still. He was already restless and bored. Only a few minutes after having learned to use the wheelchair he had demanded to know when he could start therapy so he could walk again. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be any time soon.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and his spinning. The door opened and a nurse came in with a tray of food.

"Hi there Rob. Have any appetite?"

Rob shrugged. "Yeah, a little."

"Well, where do you want to eat? The doctor said its okay for you to travel around the hospital. If you like you could go to the cafeteria."

_Such a perky little girl, ain't she?_

"No, thanks. But if you could bring that little table over by the window for me?" he said and pointed at the adjustable piece of crap.

"Sure, no problem."

Rob carefully maneuvered himself and the chair around the bed and in front of the window where he had a good view of the world below. After locking in the brakes he let the girl adjust the table to the right height and set the tray before him. It wasn't a very appetizing meal: meatloaf with ketchup, instant mashed potatoes, frozen peas, green Jell-O, a carton of milk and a bottle of orange juice. Rob snarled at it, but knew he had to eat to keep his strength.

"Thanks," he looked at her name tag, "Mandy."

"Your welcome, Rob." She went to walk away, but stopped for a moment. She looked at him as if she was nervous. "Um, Rob?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't mean to be rude or anything, but do you think I could get an autograph for my little brother? He's a big fan of yours."

Rob smiled. It felt good to get asked that. "Sure, Mandy. Come back after I'm done eating and I'll be happy to."

She lit up like a light had been turned on behind her eyes. "Oh, thank you Rob! You're such a sweetie!"

She left him to his meal and the silence of his room. Again he sighed and looked down at the plate in front of him. Again a small snarl, but he picked up his fork none the less. Before he could take a bite, though, another knock came at the door. It opened to reveal Christian. Rob blinked in surprise.

"Uh… Hi," Christian said from the doorway.

"Hi."

"Is it okay for me to come in?"

Rob thought about it for a moment, but then his eyes locked on the McDonald's bag in Christian's other hand. "Only if you give me some of your food."

Christian smiled a little. "Actually I got it for you. I figured you'd be dying for some real food. I hope you like Big Macs."

Rob faked an orgasmic moan and let his head loll back at hearing that. Christian laughed as he cleared the tray of crap out of the way and handed Rob the sack of real food. Rob discovered a Big Mac, a super sized fry, a chocolate milkshake, and a five piece Chicken McNugget crammed inside. He could've kissed the man if he wasn't already shoveling fries into his mouth.

"Ya know, I really shouldn't be hitting such junk food," Rob said through his food.

"You deserve a treat. Think of it as a sympathy gift. It's better than flowers or a fruit basket, right?"

"That's for damn sure." Rob paused to suck on the milkshake, which took quite the effort with a Triple Thick Shake. "So, what's going on back at home?"

Christian knew that meant what was going on in the ring and behind the scenes. He squirmed slightly in his seat with nervousness.

"Have you talked to Vince or anyone yet?"

"No, they haven't contacted me yet."

"Um…" Christian frowned. "Well, Vince did talk to your doctors. And he's already made his decision."

Rob stopped and looked at him intently. "And?"

"Continued health insurance, the rest of this year's pay, and you're done."

Rob sat back in the chair, looking at him for a long moment in disbelief. "I'm already out, huh? Completely? Not a vacation or anything. Just flat out done." Christian nodded. "Did they send you to talk to me?"

"No, I came here to see how you were and bring you the food."

Rob glared down at his legs, despising the very sight of them and the wheelchair that held him. He had already known they would want to cut his career short. It was practically inevitable. He felt snubbed, though.

_They could've at least put me on temporary leave. They could've waited to see if I'd come back. I am coming back. That bastard._

In front of him Christian adjusted his position in the straight backed chair, obviously feeling very uncomfortable. Rob sighed and took another bite of the sandwich in front of him. It felt strange to have Christian there. Not only were the two of them not very good friends, but it felt awkward to be seen in his current condition by anyone. He felt short. Not to mention feeble and helpless.

_Vulnerable._

He cleared his throat after swallowing. "I was told you stayed here for three hours last night. I'm sorry I didn't see you, but I wasn't ready to see anyone. I was really surprised to hear that you were here, though."

"Oh, it wasn't just me. Hurricane and Jericho were here, too."

"Yeah? Wow, people love me." Again he was surprised. Jericho certainly wasn't a friend of his either. Hurricane and Booker T were his only true buds. "Why are you here, Christian?"

He blinked. "Like I said I wanted—"

"No, I mean why. You aren't exactly my friend. Never have been. And with recent events between us I figured that we weren't on any speaking terms unless we were screaming at each other."

Christian sighed. "I know. I know that we're practically enemies. That could change, though, right?"

Rob looked at him with slight suspicion. "Maybe. Tell me why you're doing this."

"Because it's all my fault that it happened," he muttered. He then explained how he felt about everything that had taken place between them in the past month, repeating the story for about the fifth time in the past couple of days. "That's why I came here to see you. And that's why Jericho and I are working our asses off to keep people away from your belt and get you back on the job."

Now Rob was completely shocked. Christian and Jericho were far from being his friends and yet they were rooting for him. Not just that, but they were working for him! This was the last thing he had ever expected from the two of them. Why would those two, of all people, be on his side so suddenly?

_Because of your condition._

That was true. Rob knew inside that it wasn't just a sympathy ploy or anything like that. There was no reason to be offended. They wanted him back in the game. They needed a good opponent most likely. He couldn't stop the suspicious feeling in his gut, as if something was amiss. There had to be another reason Christian was being so nice. On the other hand, he had no proof that Christian wasn't tell the truth. His story had certainly seemed true right down to the sad and ashamed look on his face.

"So why are you keeping people away from the belt?" he tried to change the subject a bit.

"Because Vince intends to give it to anyone who can take it. He doesn't understand the meaning of the IC Title. It can't go to just anyone. I know that and you know that. You have to be a certain someone to wear that thing."

"Yeah, I know all too well," Rob grinned. The belt did have quite a few rumors about it, like the one that said the belt chose who the next champion would be.

"We all know that belt chooses the person who's going to win," Christian said as if he'd plucked the thought from Rob's head. "It's chosen you more times than anyone else in the business. That belt belongs to you."

Rob was flattered. "You took it from me, though."

"I cheated."

Rob nodded, "I know."

Christian blinked and looked at him. "You're not mad?"

"Oh, I was; believe me. When it happened I was infuriated, but at the same time I understood why. You've never had it before and you're a gold digger like anyone else."

Christian looked out the window, biting on his lower lip in thought for a moment. "I don't know why I acted that way. I mean, I haven't always been a perfect person, but I felt ashamed right after I did it. It was already done by then so I couldn't take it back. I wanted the damn belt."

"Don't worry about it. Others have done things a lot worse than just use the belt as a weapon," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. Still, it led to this." He gestured at Rob, meaning his being paralyzed. "How can anyone forgive me for that?"

Rob arched a brow at him. "You think that _you_ put me in this chair?"

"Our match would never have taken place if not for me."

Rob felt like laughing at him, but at the same time he could've hugged him. He sounded almost like an innocent child saying that last sentence. No wonder Christian actually had fan basis despite Edge leaving. He did have a nice sweet side to him after all. Rob shook his head slightly pushing his table out of the way then grabbed Christian's chair to pull him a little closer. The poor guy had a look on his face like he thought Rob would choke him, jumping when Rob touched his shoulder.

"You didn't fuck with the ladder did you?"

Christian instantly shook his head. "No. No, I didn't mess with it."

"You didn't climb up there and shove me off. You weren't anywhere near me or that ladder, am I right?"

Rob could see him relax slightly. "No. I was on the other side of the ring."

"Then why is it your fault? We would've been in another match together eventually anyway, even if I had won the first time. You wanted the belt, and I was determined to keep it. That's our job, Christian. We do what we want to win. And injuries happen all the time. I'm not the first one to be put into a chair. Remember Droz?" Christian nodded. "Look at how many have broken their necks, snapped their backs, broken arms and legs, risked life and limb. I'm lucky I wasn't killed, unlike some of those who came before us."

"Fuck," Christian muttered, obviously fighting back emotion.

"My point is that I don't blame you. Yes, I'm pissed. Yes, I feel like whoever is in control of life on this planet just fucked me over. And yes, I'm getting more depressed every day." He snatched the front of Christian's shirt and pulled him closer, forcing him to look him straight in the eye. "But none of that is directed at you. It is not your fault."

That was when Christian leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Rob's chest, much to the older man's surprise. He arched a brow down at the back of Christian's head as his upper body tensed. He sighed a bit and patted his shoulder.

"Jeez, it's okay dude. No need to get so weird about it."

"Sorry. I scare people when I get like this." He pulled away, looking at him with red rimmed eyes.

_Shit, he's crying? Damn._

"It's no big deal." He patted his shoulder again, before moving away to get his food again. "Suck it up, though, I'm trying to eat," he said and made Christian laugh.

He had known something like this would come eventually. Similar events had taken place before. It wasn't uncommon. On the other hand, nothing of this caliber had taken place before. Vince McMahon stared out the window of his office, contemplating some of the recent events in his business.

_If it's found out, the whole business could go down._

He had known long before Rob Van Dam's tragic accident that the man was in danger. It had been brought to his attention by Rob's own enemies. Jericho had never once stood up for RVD; had never tried to protect him in anyway. Vince had been shocked when Jericho had come to his office nearly two months ago.

/\

"Vince, I thought you should know that RVD is gonna get hurt."

He eyed Jericho warily. "You know you can't go out and injure him unless you have a match."

"I'm not talking about me. There's someone who hates him even more than I do."

For a moment, the two men stared at each other in silence. The expression on Jericho's face was one of grave seriousness. He looked strained, weary, and terribly concerned. Vince would've almost bet that there was a level of fear mixed in there as well.

"Who is it?"

"I can't tell you. I don't wanna end up in that boat as well." Already Jericho was fleeing the office, checking the hallway before actually leaving. "Just keep a closer eye on Rob. He'll never see it coming."

\/

Vince had known in his gut to listen to a warning like that, especially coming from someone like Jericho. Yet, there was nothing that could be done. He had way too many pissed off hate filled wrestlers running around as it was. Hunter was out for Goldberg's blood because of the challenge to his title reign; Kane had completely snapped and was taking down everyone in his path, namely Vince's own son.

_Kane would be the most likely person, but he seems focused on Shane._

Some time had passed since the time of the Kane and RVD tag team. The two had been completely mismatched, yet perfect at the same time. Brute force and strength paired with lightning fast reflexes and power had always seemed to work. It was reminiscent of when the Hurricane had tagged with the Big Red Machine. Unfortunately, like others before him, Rob had insisted on becoming Kane's friend and trying to help the traumatized man. He had succeeded. He had achieved everything that no one else had been able to in getting Kane to remove his mask. He had to go to some underhanded lengths to accomplish the task, though. That had been his downfall. Despite all his good intentions and the true caring he had showed Kane he had nearly gotten himself killed.

_Torched. Kane nearly set him ablaze. And Rob was his closest friend._

A knock at the door brought Vince out of his thoughts. He swiveled his chair around as the door opened without his invitation. The man standing before him made a small chill course through him.

"We need to talk."

"About what?" Vince asked.

"Three words. Rob. Van. Dam."

Jericho sat idly by and watched as Christian busied himself around the kitchen. It felt strange to be sitting in RVD's house while he wasn't there to play host. It was silent and empty, even starting to collect dust because no one had been there since before Rob had gotten hurt. He glanced around somewhat, suddenly wondering where Xena, Rob's dog, was.

"Hmm..."

"What?" Christian asked. "Aren't you gonna get off your butt and help? You promised you would."

"I think I just found a job I could do," Jericho muttered, getting up and starting to walk through the rooms whistling. "Xena? Here puppy puppy!"

Christian arched a brow, having forgotten about the dog as well. He grimaced slightly at what possibilities that could bring about and went back to cleaning. He had decided that since Rob would be let go within the week that he should do something special for him. Aside from already having a small party organized, with Rob's permission, he had decided a clean house would be nice to come home to. Employing the help of Jericho, Hurricane, and both Hardy brothers, the task would be accomplished before sunset. Even if Jericho wasn't much help.

_He's a lazy bum, but he comes in handy for a lot of things._

Jericho had provided a world of help lately in fact. He had single handedly convinced most of the men in the business to stay away from the IC Title belt. That in itself was a great accomplishment. Especially when one considered the fact that to some Jericho wasn't at all intimidating. Christian was one of those people sometimes. Depended on just how mad Jericho got. Most of the time, he knew personally that he was dealing with an overgrown blond teddy bear.

_He can be so cute._

Christian stopped in his scrubbing, wondering about that. It wasn't the first time he'd had a thought along those lines, but prior to now it had mostly been directed Edge. Of course, Edge had all but disappeared from Christian's life. That had been quite a while back, though, and he was healing nicely. He barely ever thought about Edge.

_On the other turnbuckle, though, why am I thinking about Jericho?_

He could easily admit Jericho was an attractive man, definitely right up his alley. Problem was that Jericho had it out for Trish Stratus. Too bad Jericho turned into a shy bumbling schoolboy whenever the woman was even in the same room. Christian sighed and went back to his work, but again was interrupted by a stinging towel swatting him in the butt. He yelped and whirled around to see Jeff Hardy and Hurricane in the doorway.

"Hey there tall, dark, and creepy," Jeff joked. "We finished the living room and library."

"RVD's got a crap load of books. I didn't know the stoner could even read," Hurricane added.

"People tend to think the same of you," Jeff snickered.

Christian rolled his eyes. "Well, anyway. What's left? I got the kitchen and dining room. Matt said he already did the bathroom and was working on the rec room."

"Psh! That shit's already done, too," came the snotty remark as Matt entered through the other door.

"What was Jericho doing?" Hurricane asked.

"Looking for Xena," Christian said with a somewhat concerned face.

The other three men blinked and glanced around at each other. Apparently no one had caught sight of the little Chihuahua all day.

"That's not good…" Jeff muttered.

"Let's leave that job to Jericho," Matt said. "I don't wanna deal with anything nasty. Nastier than the john anyway."

"You volunteered remember," Christian pointed out.

"That's not the point. What's left?"

"The bedroom."

"Should we do that? I mean, it is his bedroom after all," Hurricane said.

"Kinda private isn't it?" Jeff asked.

"That's what I was gonna ask of you three. I wasn't sure either."

"Well, I kinda wanna know what lies behind Rob's closed doors," Matt smirked and took off for the bedroom.

"Matty! Come on, it's none of our business!" Jeff called as he followed quickly.

Hurricane looked at Christian. Christian just shrugged and they both followed with less enthusiasm. Upstairs and outside of the bedroom door, Jeff was trying to hold off an overly curious Matt. The brothers always seemed to having conflicting opinions and views on almost everything so the argument was starting to take its usual route.

"You're just a big bully over half the time!"

"And you're just a whiny brat! Get out of the way!"

"No! You were constantly snooping through my stuff! Didn't you get enough spying when we were kids!"

"You're little kiddy crap was boring. Move it!"

Hurricane put two fingers to his mouth and whistled as loud and as ear piercingly possible. It got the arguing to stop and a good slap to the head from Christian.

"That hurt! Don't do that so close to me ever again."

"I had to do something…"

"Yeah, yeah. Save the day, we know." Christian looked over at Matt, who was still nearly bouncing with curiosity. "Okay. Let's just open the door, take one look, and then back out if we see anything we shouldn't. If it's pretty clean and clear of anything personal then we'll go in and only dust and vacuum. Deal?"

Everyone looked at Matt, who thought about it momentarily. "Sounds fair. Now move it Jeffy."

A quick shove and Matt cleared the path easily enough. He pushed the door open, being sure to stand to the side so everyone could take a look. For a moment no one said a word, just staring into the room. Then Matt slammed the door shut again and wiped a hand over his face.

"And people call Jeff weird."

"I wouldn't have suspected that from seemingly innocent Rob Van Dam," Christian muttered.

"At the risk of sounding cliché… Wassup wit dat!" Hurricane added.

"He's apparently just a closet freak!" Jeff said.

"Hey guys!" Jericho said as he walked up to them with a dog in his arms. "I found Xena; she was at the neighbor's house." He paused and looked at each of them. "What? You guys look like you saw a ghost."

Christian kinda rolled his eyes and patted Jericho's shoulder as he walked past. "Rob has a goth side, let's just leave it at that."

"Huh?"

**End Chapter 2**

_Legalities: Christian Cage is copyright of TNA Wrestling. Chris Jericho is copyright to himself. Rob Van Dam, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


	3. Chapter 3

**High Flyer No More**

**By Archangel**

_**Chapter 3**_

The crowd was screaming in his ears so loud it was nearly deafening. He stood atop the ladder in all his glory. Pride and joy coursed through him along with the pure adrenal thrill of the fight. The lights bathed him in pure white heat, the smell of sweat and beer was thick in the air, his mouth was dry from panting through his work, and he felt completely alive. This was energy in its purest form. He looked down at the ring below, not realizing how high up he was. In fact he was much higher than he had originally thought. A lump formed in his throat. Had he really climbed this high?

That was when the ladder started to wobble. He gasped in panic and crouched down, clinging to the ladder beneath him. He knew that the wrong move would end him. Somehow he just knew his life would be over if he were to fall this time. He had gotten too full of himself and climbed higher than he should have. Again the ladder moved and threatened to topple over. He couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped his throat. He was terrified. He had never been afraid of heights in his life, but now here he was grasping to the ladder as if his life depended on it. He couldn't move. He couldn't climb down. He was paralyzed with fear.

Below him he heard laughter. He opened his eyes to see familiar figures shaking the ladder back and forth. He couldn't see their faces, but they looked so familiar to him. He cried out in fear as they almost shoved him over, righting him at the last second to torment him further. He was near tears with terror. His life was in the hands of these laughing fools. That was when he realized the laughter was getting louder. He raised his head to look gingerly around at the crowd. They were laughing at him, too! Fingers pointed and thousands of people cackled at the sight of Rob Van Dam crying while sitting at the top of a ladder, being shaken back and forth by his fellow wrestlers. When he thought he could take no more humiliation his balance was suddenly jolted backwards, his grip slid from the metal, and he plummeted for what seemed like an eternity.

He screamed. He screamed like he never had before, the utter terror filling his voice as he howled. No matter how he screamed it seemed as though he couldn't drown out the noise around him. He could still hear the laughter.

"No! Don't sedate him! Stop!"

_That's Christian's voice!_

Rob's eyes flew open, searching wildly for the familiar face. He was rewarded quickly as someone unfamiliar was shoved aside and Christian leaned over him. He felt the other man's strong arms envelop him in a tight embrace, one hand petting at his hair in the most soothing manner. Instantly, Rob felt better. He felt safe. Slowly he began to breathe normally, his heart began to still, and his upper body relaxed into Christian's chest. Now he could remember where he was. Reality returned to him finally as the dream faded.

"Christian? Are you sure you want us to leave?" a doctor asked.

"Yes. He's fine now. He was only dreaming, can't you see that?" he snapped. "Stupid doctors go to school for years and still don't know shit."

Rob sighed and pulled himself carefully from Christian's grasp, feeling uncomfortable being so close to the other man. He settled into the pillows behind his back and head. He was exhausted. He had been asleep, but the severity of his dream had taken more out of him than the whole day. He didn't want to fall asleep again so soon. Christian was there. He should talk to him.

The door to the hospital room opened, but in the dim light Rob couldn't see who it was. When he drew closer Jericho's blond hair and fair skin caught the light enough for his features to be made out.

"Is he okay?" he whispered.

"A nightmare. A terrible one I think."

"It sounded pretty bad. I can't believe you forced your way in here like that."

Christian shrugged. "I promised I'd help him. I knew what the damn doctors were gonna try to do to him. Sedating him would only have made it worse."

"You're right. He needs real sleep and rest. Hopefully he can get it."

Rob was too tired to take part in their conversation at all. He had a feeling that they didn't realize he was still kind of awake. He didn't mind, though. It was good to know that they were there. It felt odd after being Jericho and Christian's enemy for so long to suddenly put so much trust in them. He knew it was right. He could almost sense the caring they felt for him sometimes. He had always been in tune with people like that.

"Are you gonna stay another night?" Jericho asked.

"No, I can't. I need some rest, too."

"We both do. Too much work lately." There was a long pause where Rob thought they had already left. "Christian?"

"What?"

"Will you come back to my place tonight?"

"Huh?" Christian's voice was filled with surprise.

"I need to talk to you about something concerning Rob. It's really serious." Another pause. "I don't think we should talk about it here, though."

"Oh," came some slight disappointment. "Well, okay. Sure."

Rob felt Christian get to his feet with support from the edge of the bed. He opened his eyes partly to look up at the two of them as Christian petted his hair and pushed it away from his face. His head lolled to the side and he was asleep again before he even saw the two of them leave the room.

"So, what is this about?" Christian asked once in the hall.

"Keep your voice down. We don't need everyone hearing."

Jericho glanced around with obvious nervousness. Christian had a feeling that he was almost scared of something, especially when he took his arm and pulled him closer. He leaned in towards his ear.

"I told Vince about this a while back, but he must not have believed me. Or not cared. Or he has something to do with all this. I dunno."

"With all this? What do you mean?"

"With this, Christian," he hissed and gestured back towards Rob's room. "This wasn't an accident."

Christian's eyes widened in shock, meeting Jericho's own serious blue gaze. His words repeated again in his mind. If it wasn't an accident and someone purposely put RVD into that wheelchair... Christian was instantly filled with fear and a sense of furious rage. He had known people to purposely injure their opponents and enemies before, but nothing as serious as this. There were many broken limbs, bruised ribs, nearly broken noses, and even concussions inflicted in the heat of hatred filled battle. To commit a crime such as this, however...

"How could anyone do something like this on purpose?" he whispered.

"You'd be surprised some of the nuts who have worked here."

"Do you know? You know who did this?"

Jericho didn't answer right away, averting his eyes. "I'd feel a lot better if we weren't in a public place right now."

"Are you in danger to, Chris? Because you know?"

Again Jericho didn't meet Christian's worried stare. He simply nodded his head towards the elevator and started in that direction. Christian had no choice but to follow him now. He had to know everything.

"On the way to the ring, hailing from Battle Creek, Michigan and weighing in at 235 pounds. He's your Intercontinental Champion, Rob Van Dam!"

Green eyes narrowed at the television screen, nearly glowing with a powerful loathing. It would be easy to push the Stop button and eject the DVD from its player. He continued to watch. He knew that the more he watched the more fueled his fire would become. He needed to be infuriated. He needed to be blinded with rage less he lose his will to carry out the necessary tasks.

"You made it out alive. Not in one piece, but alive still." He paused to watch RVD turn his smile to the crowd and accept applause for a job well done. "You're so arrogant and cocky. You're worse than even... No. Maybe not. But he's my brother so I can't treat him like I will you. Besides... You beat me and humiliated more times than I can count. You've earned what's coming to you."

One eye twitched madly as he remembered the countless matches lost due to a Five Star Frog Splash, or a Van Daminator, or that painful Rolling Thunder. He could hear the crowd chanting the initials "RVD" incessantly. They even chanted "ECW" for him, as if he had been the only person there.

"I was in ECW. They never chanted that for me."

"Oh, look out! RVD's feeling froggy!"

He turned his eyes to the screen just in time to watch himself receive the Frog Splash. His stomach tightened and contorted from the residual pain. He could still feel the hits. His gaze focused harshly on the golden eyes of his old opponent. His arm twitched and hand tightened around the bottle in his hand. He grunted and threw with all his might, watching the bottle shatter. The wine drenched the view of Rob Van Dam in a thin red haze, dripping slowly to the floor.

"Ya know you don't have to push the wheelchair for me," Rob said and looked up at the nurse behind him.

"Actually, yeah I do," he answered. "It's policy."

"Oh yeah. I remember that rule now."

"Is anyone picking you up today?"

Rob thought for a moment about that. "Damn, I'm not sure. Christian will probably be waiting for me."

"If not we can make a couple phone calls for you."

"Hey Robbie!" a call from the other side of the main lobby interrupted.

Rob looked to see a more than joyous looking Jericho standing with Christian and Trish Stratus. Rob grinned, noticing that Jericho was holding Trish's hand. The nurse wheeled him over, saying his goodbye and wishing Rob good luck.

"Tell Mandy I'll send her that autograph she wanted," Rob mentioned as the man walked away.

"Oh Rob," Trish suddenly gushed and hugged him tightly, inadvertently pushing her cleavage against Rob's cheek.

"Hi Trish! Happy to see you," he snickered, getting a laugh from both the guys.

"Oh, sorry." She blushed and wiped at his face as if she had gotten something on him. "Damn things tend to get in the way now and then."

"I don't think anyone minds, hun," Jericho chuckled.

Christian rolled his eyes, looking down at Rob. "Ready to finally get back home?"

"Hell yeah. One more day in this place and I'll go completely nuts."

"Already more than halfway there aren't ya?" Jericho joked as he moved behind the wheelchair to push RVD along.

"So I've been told." He reached down and locked the brake on the chair's wheels, startling Jericho. "Sorry, but I wanna do this myself. I need to get used to it."

"Oh, all you had to do was say so."

Rob smiled and unlocked the brake again then gave a good shove at the wheels to get ahead of the others. He still absolutely hated his situation. Given the chance to rant, he'd bitch and complain all day about it. As it was, though, he was forcing himself to just do what he could on his own. He hardly ever asked for help from anyone when navigating the hospital the past few days. Reaching things above his head was the biggest disadvantage thus far. That, and sometimes doors proved difficult if they didn't swing open the right way.

Once outside and down the ramp next to the stairs Rob looked back to the others expectantly. He could see the tears in Trish's eyes and the expressions on Jericho and Christian's face both said the same thing. They couldn't stand looking at him. He blushed slightly and made a point of not stuttering.

"Where did you park?"

"My Expedition's right over there," Jericho answered and gestured.

"You guys are gonna have a hell of a time getting me in that tall piece of crap," he smirked.

"It's not a piece of crap!"

"It's a Ford! C'mon and admit it already!"

"Shhh! It doesn't know it's a Ford. Don't tell it and maybe it'll keep running," he laughed.

"That's the closest you'll get him to admitting the truth," Christian said.

"I call shotgun!" Rob suddenly called out.

"Damn it! I never get shotgun!" Christian whined.

"Sorry, man. It'll just be easier for you to help me. The handle on the front will give me something to pull up with."

"Oh. Oh, okay."

After some careful explanations of exactly how to help him, Christian managed to get Rob into the passenger seat of the over sized vehicle. It was more than entertaining for the others to watch Christian try to pick Rob up even the couple of feet to get his ass on the chair. Rob was chuckling to himself, waiting for Christian to fold up his wheelchair to pack it in the back when he heard a yelp. Unable to turn around, he quickly pulled down the visor to use the mirror on the back to see. All he could see was Christian and Jericho scrambling to shove the chair into the back of the Expedition.

"What the hell are they doing?" he asked Trish.

"I dunno. They look scared of something." She leaned over to try to see out the back window, and then gasped. "Oh my god it's Kane!"

"Kane? He's here?" Rob blinked in surprise.

"Rob, you don't know what he's been doing since you left. He's gone completely mad. He set J.R. on fire. He tried to electrocute Shane McMahon."

That was when Jericho and Christian got into the car. "Go Chris! Get us the fuck outta here!"

"I'm working on it!" He started the car and threw it in reverse.

"Look out!" Trish screamed.

Jericho slammed on the brakes just before hitting Kane. Quickly he shoved the shifter into drive, squealing the tires as he floored it and leaving a cloud of burnt rubber behind him. He didn't even stop to look for traffic as he whipped out of the parking lot.

"Okay! Jericho chill!" Rob exclaimed, holding on to the armrests of the seat for dear life.

"Sorry, Rob. Sorry you guys. I just didn't want him getting to you, Rob."

"It's okay. He wouldn't have done anything," Rob panted.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Christian said.

"He didn't hurt me last time. He was gonna light me up, but he stopped. He doesn't hate me."

Rob didn't see it, but Jericho and Christian shared a long look in the rearview mirror. After their conversation the prior evening they knew better. Jericho had stated plain and simple that Kane was behind Rob's accident. He had damaged the ladders that were to be involved in the match without care to which one broke or who was on it when it did. The evidence was there for anyone to see. After the match the ladders were inspected and each one had been tampered with in various ways. Christian had nearly freaked out completely when hearing that. It could've easily been him in the wheelchair. The problem that still hung in the air now was finding the proof needed to pin the blame on Kane.

"Well, could it get any quieter in here? I can't hear my hair grow," Rob spoke up.

"Sorry. We're just shaken up I guess," Jericho said, reaching up to turn the radio up.

The rest of the drive still continued in silence, the radio filling the void. Once at Rob's home he got the pleasant surprise of seeing his friends had chipped in to have a wheelchair ramp built on the front of the house. They had even had it built with the same fancy details the rest of the porch held. Inside, Trish told Rob to head into the living room for a surprise. As soon as he entered the room, he was greeted by a large group of his friends. He hadn't expected this many people to show up. Booker T, the Hurricane, Shane and Stephanie McMahon, Matt and Jeff Hardy, Edge, Lita, Molly, Dawn Marie, Sabu, Jerry Lynn, J.R., Spanky, Paul London, and even some people Rob didn't know.

"Damn, I hope somebody already planned the catering cuz I can't cook for shit!"

As soon as he said it, he was surrounded by most of the people in the room. He had never received such an outpouring of love from others in the business. There were so many difference responses to his accident he hadn't expected. Surely he had seen the tears and wishes of good luck coming, but many of them were telling him they couldn't wait for him to come back. They had incredible faith in him. Even Stephanie and Shane had each kissed his cheeks and told him they knew he'd be back sooner than anyone thought. He was near tears before he had even said hello to everyone.

"I can't believe so many people showed up for me," Rob said to the few who were near him.

"Well, what did you expect? Some fruit baskets and get well cards?" Lita asked before sitting down right in his lap, legs tossed over the arm of the wheelchair.

Rob grinned and hugged her. "I guess I should've known. Sometimes I forget that this is a family, though."

"There's an advantage. You can't feel Lita's fat ass on you anymore," Jeff joked as he walked by on the way to the kitchen.

"Shut up!"

"So, notice anything different about the place, Rob?" Hurricane asked.

"I dunno. Should I?"

"We cleaned the hell out of this place for you a couple days ago," Matt pointed out.

"How'd you get in?" Christian lifted a hand with his mouth full of food. "Oh, that's why you asked for the key."

"Yeah, bringing you your own clothes was only a ploy."

"By the way, you should put a lock on your bedroom door," Hurricane added.

Rob arched a brow at him. "You went in my room?"

"No, we only opened the door and quickly ran the other direction." Rob frowned at that, almost looking like he was pouting.

"Why? What's in his room?" Trish asked.

"Nothing!" Christian, Matt, Hurricane, and Jeff (who had returned with a beer) said in unison.

"Don't ask me. I missed it all and then they wouldn't tell me or let me look," Jericho said.

"C'mon. Rob, what's in your bedroom?"

Rob smiled in an oddly perverted way. "I could've showed you before the accident, but you're Jericho's girl now. So sorry."

Trish's eyes widened a bit at that. "First of all, ooo you would've shown me?" She paused to wink at him. "Secondly, who said I was his girl?"

Rob shrugged. "I saw him holding your hand earlier so I just kinda thought…"

Jericho cleared his throat a bit, a giant red blush coming across his cheeks. Trish continued looking confused. Everyone else was looking at Jericho blushing and waiting an explanation. No one noticed Christian set his plate of food on the coffee table and walk away.

He stalked angrily through the kitchen and outside onto the giant patio. It was night time already. Thankfully it was amazingly quiet outside. Out here in the middle of nowhere Christian could see more of the stars and even hear the waves crashing on the beach despite being more than a mile away from it. He sighed and leaned on the small wall that surrounded to outer perimeter of the patio.

"Why can't he pay attention to me?" he muttered to himself. "She doesn't like him. I do."

Christian had known from adolescence that he was gay. Still he had tried his damnedest to like women. Now as an adult he could admit finding girls attractive, but never in a sexual sense of the word. He had completely given in to his 'homo-erotic' side once Edge had made his intentions known; after being Christian's best friend for his whole life. Now, after a long relationship that had simply lost its passionate heat, Christian was realizing how difficult it was to go after men. Especially a man who seemed to be straight half the time, and completely flaming the rest of the time.

He sighed wistfully. "No wonder Edge didn't tell me for so long. I was too busy trying to be straight."

"Now why would you wanna do that?"

Christian looked over his shoulder to see Paul London, the newest addition to the group. Paul was a George Clooney/David Duchovny look alike in the Cruiserweight division and was starting out his new WWE career by tagging with the infamous Spanky. Paul and Spanky were a perfect compliment of each other, both in wrestling skills and in appearances; Paul's darker complexion and black hair looked gorgeous next to Spanky's blond locks and fair skin, and vice versa.

"Why would I wanna be straight?"

"Yeah. If you're gay, then there's no denying it. The harder you try to the worse off you'll be."

Christian gave his usual cocky smirk. "And just how would you know?"

"You think I'm Spanky's partner only in the ring?" he chuckled.

"No wonder you guys are so good together. Love or just lust?"

"Mmm… Both. That's the best way to have it."

"You're so lucky." Christian returned his gaze to the stars. "I miss Edge sometimes so much, but it was simply that we lost it. There's no getting it back. Now I'm stuck here pining for someone I really can't have."

"You can never be too sure, though. After all he may just be pulling the same trick you were before Edge." Paul caught his eye again. "And don't think I don't know who you've got your eye on."

"Oh yeah? I'm betting you think Rob because I've been hanging around him so much."

Paul ignored his arrogant remark. "Nope. I know you prefer someone with blonder hair, bluer eyes, and a smaller frame than RVD's hulking shoulders and arms."

_Blonder, bluer, and smaller. Yeah, he knows alright._

"Okay then Mister Love Expert, what do I do?"

"Wait for a time when you're alone with him and then just tell him. It's the only thing you can do. He certainly can't read your mind."

"Some people can read minds!"

Paul and Christian looked up to see a rosy cheeked and obviously intoxicated Spanky walking up to them. Well, bounding up to them like a puppy would better describe his quick pace. He practically melted straight into Paul's chest and snuggled him with a sweet smile. Even Christian nearly 'aww'ed at him.

"What was that, my extremely pretty and drunken one?" Paul asked.

"I can read minds! That's how I found you out here with the heartbroken and lovesick Christian."

Christian arched a brow. "Am I that obvious or can he really read minds?"

"Hm. Good question. Sometimes I wonder about him." Paul paused to ruffle Spanky's already mussed hair. "Still, you really should take my advice. Just do it, but in a private place so neither of you risk public humiliation."

"I think I might do that." Christian glanced down at Spanky, who seemed to be trying to pull Paul's shirt buttons off with his teeth. "I'll leave you two alone."

"You can watch if you like!" Spanky grinned.

"They have a couple words for someone like you in Japan: bishounen and hentai. You should look them up."

"What the hell did he say?"

"Never mind, sweetie. You missed a button."

"Where?"

"On my pants."

Christian snickered, having heard that before closing the patio doors. He pulled the curtains closed out of politeness.

**End Chapter 3**

_Legalities: Christian Cage is copyright of TNA Wrestling. Chris Jericho is copyright to himself. Rob Van Dam, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


	4. Chapter 4

**High Flyer No More**

**By Archangel**

_**Chapter 4**_

Rob winced, gritting his teeth to hold back any sound that wanted to come from his throat at that moment.

"You're holding your breath again. You have to breathe or you'll never relax."

He exhaled loudly. "I know, I know. You'd think I'd listen after years of yoga, martial arts, tai chi, and other meditations."

He looked up at the man leaning over him with a nervous trust, trying his best to relax and let him do his job. Physical therapy hurt like a bitch, though. As it was for now Rob couldn't do very much aside from lie on his back and let his therapist move his legs for him to keep the muscles from atrophying. Other than that they were teaching him to move around with only his arms. It was surprisingly difficult to control the movements of your body when half of it was dead weight.

"Tell me where you feel it."

"My lower back right above my ass. Before the cut off."

"Cut off?"

"The spot where my sense of touch stops. It's right around the top of my butt in back, but dips down lower in the front."

"That's quite normal. It's because of the way the nerves are laid out in length."

Rob hissed through his teeth as his left leg was pushed up again. "This is getting to be too much."

"We're almost done. Just three more and we'll put you in the hot tub. Sound like a good reward?"

"Sounds awesome," he half smiled.

Unfortunately, the last three were so painful Rob had tears brimming in his eyes. People in this profession were used to seeing their patients cry, but it made it no less embarrassing. After being allowed to rest for a little while two of the bigger assistants lifted him into his wheelchair and escorted him to the pool area. Once they had helped him into the tub and set it up for him he was finally left alone. He had been waiting for this all day. It seemed like he was constantly surrounded by people anymore. So many people would come to visit him at home and call him on the phone. Then he always had to have help when he went to physical therapy. His moments alone were few and far between. Most of the time it was a good thing because his thoughts tended to wander on the depressive side when he was alone. On the other hand, a person can only take so much company.

"Silence is golden," he sighed. "Too bad the tub is so noisy. And too bad I wore white trunks today."

He glanced down and kinda smirked. At least that part of his body still functioned properly. He knew he was lucky to get that privilege. Trish and Lita had asked him at his Welcome Home party when no one else was paying attention. Both of them seemed happy with the answer. It made Rob wonder if maybe being paralyzed would come with its rewards.

_Sympathy sex? Could be a good thing._

He let his head roll to the side on the edge of the tub, making sure not to relax so much that he slid under the water. He wished he could stay there all day. He'd always wanted a hot tub installed at his home, but had never gotten around to it. Just then an opening door made his eyelids lift. The sight made his yellow eyes widen.

"Kane." Rob lifted his head, his grip on the sides of the tub tightening with fear. "Wassup buddy?"

For a moment Kane only stared at him, his mismatched eyes colors nearly making Rob shiver despite the warmth of the hot tub. A scene from one of the Halloween movies popped into his head where Michaels Myers had boiled a couple alive in a hot tub that was too hot. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Why did Jericho and Christian run the other day?"

"They were afraid you had shown up to hurt me. They were only looking out for me."

Kane seemed to find that answer logical and nodded. "Fine. You should've told them to stop, though."

"I did, but they wouldn't listen." He gestured down at himself. "I can't exactly fight for everything I want anymore. Not physically anyway."

Kane chuckled. "I know. Believe me I noticed you were pretty much helpless while I was watching your therapy session."

Rob resisted the urge cry out for help. Kane's voice had always sounded menacing no matter what he was saying. The recent events between him and Shane O'Mac made RVD nervous. It was bad enough that he could still remember how Kane had turned his rage on him after his mask had been removed. Being thrown through walls, getting choke slammed, not to mention when Kane had nearly lit him on fire. It all made for a very shaky Rob Van Dam.

"You were watching, huh? That's cool." Rob looked up at Kane, knowing the much larger man would see the fear in his eyes. "Listen, Kane. I was told everything that has happened since I've been gone. You've got me really worried."

"Worried for me? Or are you just worried for yourself?" he nearly growled.

"Well, you can't blame me for being a little nervous. You nearly killed me after all."

Before he even finished his sentence, Rob saw the look on Kane's face contort with rage. The hulking monster of a man lunged for him then grabbing him by the throat. Memories of the last few times this had happened rushed Rob's mind. He knew he had to remain focused, though. He opened his eyes to look into the snarling face of Kane.

"You were behind my unmasking, Rob. You don't think you deserved the abuse I dealt you in return?"

"I told you before, Kane. I thought I was doing the right--"

Rob's words were cut off as the giant hand on his neck tightened, all but restricting his airway completely. He tried to scream but nothing more than raspy choked yelps came from him. With a grunt of effort Kane straightened to his full height again pulling Rob with him and leaving the helpless man dangling in mid-air. Rob forced himself to look at Kane their gaze meeting perfectly. For a moment there was nothing but the sounds of the whirring tub, dripping water, and Rob's wheezing breaths.

"As far as I'm concerned, Rob, you deserved everything you got. Not just from me, but from the person who did this to you." He glanced RVD up and down, smirking at how his lower half was nothing more than limp dead weight. "I enjoyed watching you hit that turnbuckle. I loved hearing that you were out of the game forever. But I'll tell you something else you don't know. Something you should know." He paused as if making sure Rob was listening. "I didn't have anything to do with it. I don't know who does, but it wasn't me. Tell your chicken shit friends that."

With that he dropped Rob back in the tub without care to his condition. Rob would've screamed in agony as shots of pain were sent up his spine from the rough landing. As it was he could do nothing more than gasp for breath, his coughs strained and his voice coming through. By the time he could open his eyes again, Kane was nowhere to be seen. He finally got a full breath and called out for help.

Christian rested his forehead on the cool window as he gazed down at the street far below. Behind him he could hear Jericho mixing drinks; the whir of the blender, clinking of empty glasses, and the ringing sound of ice being dropped into them. Somehow it was soothing to hear him at the bar, humming quietly to himself, and doing something so normal. It had been quite a while since life had been normal. Christian couldn't blame Rob for it. It certainly wasn't his fault that these things had happened. Quite the opposite in fact. Christian had been charged with the duty of figuring out 'who done it.' He still remembered that heart wrenching moment with vividness that made him feel creeped out. It had been a week ago.

\/

Christian wandered through the silent rooms of Rob Van Dam's cozy home, looking for the home owner. After seeing no one sign of Rob, or even sign of life, he figured that he must've been sleeping in for once. He smiled to himself as he looked up into the second floor from the open foyer. He could see Rob's bedroom door was shut and no light came from underneath the crack of the door. Rob had the heaviest curtains he had ever seen. Apparently the man had trouble sleeping if there was any light and even took the curtains with him when he had been on the road. Christian sighed and turned towards the living room, thinking about the killer entertainment system RVD had rigged up, but he was halted by a familiar scream. He had heard it echoing down the hospital hallway the evening he had learned about Rob's pre-planned fate.

Christian skidded to a halt in front of Rob's bedroom door, grabbing at the handle and turning. It didn't budge. Rob had locked the door as advised. His screaming was becoming louder and more panicked.

"Rob!" Christian pounded on the door with his fist. "Rob! Wake up! It's a nightmare! Wake up and open the door!"

_Asshole, how would he get to the door that quickly!_

That was when the sound changed. He wasn't just screaming. He was wailing in misery, his cries of fear being broken by chest wrenching sobs. Christian snarled and slammed his shoulder into the door. Apparently the house was beautiful, but had shitty craftsmanship because Christian could see the door frame threaten to splinter away. He cussed and pulled back, throwing his frustration and anger into one swift and violent karate kick. The heel of his boot crushed the front of the door as well as throwing it open. He rushed into the darkened room without bothering with the light switch. He merely followed the sound of Rob's desperate pleas for help.

"Make him stop! I'm gonna fall again! Make him stop! Stop! Don't let him kill me!"

"Rob! Wake up!" Christian felt his way across the king size bed till he felt Rob's arm, grabbing and shaking him. "Wake up, Rob! It's a nightmare! Wake up!"

Suddenly the room went completely silent aside from hyperventilating from where Rob lay. At first Christian thought maybe he was about to be attacked, confused for the bad guy in the dream. Then he heard another, softer sob and Rob started to reach for him blindly in the black of the room. Christian caught his hands and was instantly pulled down, feeling as if Rob was trying to claw him as the man scrambled to get a tight hold on him. He had never known Rob to willingly reach out for physical attention from anyone. It had always seemed to unnerve him even when it was from women. He could feel his heart breaking for the millionth time since RVD's fall. He held him tight as he cried into the curve of his neck.

Christian wasn't sure how long they stayed that way. It could've been five minutes. It could've been all day. He was relieved when Rob began to calm down again. He had been worried that his friend was having a nervous breakdown. He pulled back as Rob loosened his grip, leaning on his elbow and looking at where he could feel Rob's head on the pillows.

"Are you okay now?" he said quietly.

"Not really. I'm sorry, Christian."

"Sorry for what?"

"For breaking down like that and all over your shirt."

Christian could help but chuckle. "It's okay I have tons of shirts. It was bound to happen eventually, RVD."

"Please, don't call me that," he almost whimpered.

Christian bit his lip, knowing why Rob didn't want to hear his initials anymore. He didn't think of himself as a wrestler anymore. He felt he had failed and was unworthy of his nicknames, calls, taunts, and anything else that had to do with his past career.

"Like I said, RVD," he said sternly, "it was going to happen eventually. You've been holding everything back and trying to remain your cool and calm self, but nobody is that freaking strong. Everyone has a point where it becomes too much and you have to let it out less you snap completely. I'm just glad I was here for you."

Rob groaned. "I wish you hadn't been. No offense. It's just humiliating."

"Hey, I didn't see a damn thing. And I really mean that cuz it's too damn dark in here." Rob gave a half laugh. "Rob? You were talking while you were still asleep."

"Was I?" he asked, sounding a little nervous.

"You said that someone was going to make you fall and you were begging for someone to help. You said you didn't want to die." He felt Rob shiver next to him, so he reached over and touched his chest to reassure him. "What are your nightmares about, Rob?"

For a moment Rob was silent, but Christian heard him take a breath. "Most of the time I'm in the ring during our match again. I'm at the top of the ladder. Everything feels great. The crowd's pumped and screaming, I feel damn near invincible like always. Then I looked down to check where you are. You're never there, but most of the time someone else is. I can't see his face. He grabs the ladder and shakes it, tilting it back and setting it down. He's teasing me, scaring me shitless, like an incredibly mean older brother. I'm so terrified that I'm holding on for dear life. Most of the time I start crying. And the crowd starts to laugh at me. I look up at them in shock because I feel so betrayed. That's when he dumps me off backwards and I fall forever, never hitting anything. Just fall into blackness for eternity."

Christian was shaking a little after hearing the dream retold. He could see the obvious and even not so obvious themes developing. Rob felt humiliated and as if he was being betrayed. Obviously he was being attacked by someone, but he didn't know who. Rob was seeing what was going on in real life. He was betrayed by someone in the business; someone who wanted to kill him. The humiliation, unfortunately, was coming from Rob's own feelings of having to be in a wheelchair.

"Listen, Rob. I think I should tell you something. You should know the real reason me and Jericho are so worried about you."

Christian told Rob everything that he knew thus far. Jericho had told him a lot the evening that they had left Rob at the hospital. Now he recounted everything that he could remember so Rob would understand his dreams and, hopefully, stop having them. Somehow, RVD didn't seem too surprised to hear any of it.

"I had a feeling that was why my nightmares were like this. That and WWE ladders do not fucking break under only 235 pounds." He paused, and then reached over to take Christian's shoulder. "You have to promise me two things, Christian."

"Anything."

"Number one: never tell anyone about this. I don't want them to know that I freaked out like this." Christian nodded, even though Rob didn't see it. "Number two: find the person who did this and make them pay for it one way or another."

Christian nearly gasped. "Rob, I don't know if I can do something like that. We don't really have any proof of anything."

"Christian, I trust you. You came to me in the hospital, completely ridden with guilt and shame, and yet you faced me like a man and apologized. You even extended your hand and offered up yourself in order to help me in any way you could. Believe me I don't think I could've made it out of the hospital without you there to talk to. You kept me from going nuts." He sighed. "You kept me from finishing the job for the bastard who did this."

Now Christian did gasp. "Rob, you're kidding?"

"I wish I was. For the first time ever I knew what it meant to want to die. I couldn't stand the thought of having to sit in a chair the rest of my life. You, however, didn't think that way. None of my friends seem to think that I'm gone for good. You kept it in my face, though. You would talk about what was going on in the show as if I would be back the following week. I owe you my life in a way. I can't repay you, but I have to ask for more. You have to bring him to justice." Rob's hand tightened on him slightly. "Even if it means our kind of justice instead of the courts."

Christian knew what he meant exactly. It was an unspoken understanding among all men who had friends. 'Someone fucks with you and we'll fuck with him ten times worse.' It was simply how things worked. Every guy who was a real man knew it.

"Okay, Rob. I swear that I'll do my best. And maybe I'll be able to throw the guy at your feet and let you take the fist shot."

/\

"Hey, Mister Head In the Clouds."

Christian looked up to see Jericho standing next to him with piña colada in one out stretched hand. He took it without hesitation and swallowed a large amount before pausing to thank him. Jericho seemed a little surprised, but nodded and joined him in staring down on the world. His apartment took up the entire top floor of the building. It was nearly as large as Christian's whole house. The view, however, was only mediocre because there were buildings directly across the street. So the traffic and people below were the only things to look at.

"So, what did you need to talk to me about, Christian?"

Already Christian felt a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He kept staring down at the headlights of oncoming cars as he cleared his throat and tried to think of what to say.

"Jericho, have you ever been in love with someone, but you were completely clueless as to how they felt about you?"

He nodded with a roll of his eyes. "Tons of times. Especially back in high school. I was so stupid when it came to girls." He stopped. "I guess you had some difficulty back then, too, considering…"

Christian gave a wry smirk. "You can say it out loud can't you?"

"Of course. You're gay. You know I have no problem with it."

"Just checking. Ya know I never really talked to you about anything like that before. I just told you about Edge and I and you said 'cool'."

"I did tell you that you had good taste in men," Jericho chuckled.

"Yeah, I remember." He paused to take a drink. "Have you ever been with a man before, Chris?"

He felt Jericho's eyes upon him then, but dared not look up to meet that piercing blue gaze. He was afraid of what he might see in those depths.

"Um… Yeah, actually. Once. I was kinda young. Experimenting I guess you could say."

"And?"

"And what?"

Christian finally dared to look at him, knowing Jericho was wondering why he was being questioned about such a subject. He gave him a look that he hoped showed his sincere curiosity and care. He almost thought he saw the other man jump when their eyes met. He was so nervous about actually going through with this. He knew at anytime he could simply shrug and forget it; let the conversation die and then change to something else. But he forced himself to think about how happy Paul and Spanky were. He wanted that.

"Did you enjoy it? Did you love him?"

Jericho glanced back out the window for a moment. "Well… I did enjoy it. I liked him a lot, though I don't think I was old enough for real love yet. We didn't become boyfriends or anything. Like I said it was mostly experimentation."

"That's too bad. It could've been something special." Christian could see Jericho becoming more and more uncomfortable with the conversation. He knew he had to say it before the subject got changed. "Like I was trying to say earlier, I really like someone. Actually, I think I'm falling in love with them. They don't know it, though."

"And you don't know how they stand with you? Or how they stand with guys?"

"A little of both actually. He's very hard to read a lot of the time. He seems interested in men sometimes and other times he seems completely woman crazy. There's also the fact that he's a very good friend of mine. I'm not sure what to do."

Jericho thought about it for a moment, giving it some true consideration as he sipped on his scotch and Coke. "I guess the only way to do it is just tell him exactly how you feel. I mean, it's better than just standing back and never knowing. And if you lose him as a friend, then he was probably a jerk anyway."

"You think so?"

"Definitely. Hey, he knows you're gay right?" Christian nodded. "Then if the assclown can't handle getting hit on at least once he shouldn't ever had told you he was cool with you. Plus, ya know, same stuff happens between men and women all the time and we all remain friends the majority of the time."

"That's very comforting, Chris. Thank you."

"Ya know you hardly ever call me Chris. You only do that when you're very, very serious about something."

Christian smiled and stepped away from the window, reaching over to pull Jericho's half empty glass from his hands. He set the drinks on the table behind him before turning back to face him. He looked him straight in the eye. He was less than a foot away from him, plenty of room to dodge a punch or close the gap with a kiss.

_Just say it._

"I'm very serious right now. Because I need to tell you something." Jericho's stance faltered slightly, noticeably enough for Christian to grow even more nervous. "Chris, I love you. I've felt this way for a long time, but didn't truly realize it until after what happened to Rob. I guess being around you more often, plus the thought of how Rob could've been dead in an instant and that it could've happened to either of us… I just had to at least tell you. Even if you can't feel the same way for me I just needed to say it and to see the response."

Jericho was stunned. He was glad Christian had taken his drink; otherwise he would've dropped it most likely. He looked down at his feet as his mind whirred with lightning speeds in attempt to process what he'd heard. Then he realized what Christian must be feeling. Looking back at him he could see utter fear and apprehension in the man's expression.

"Christian, I…" He paused to take a breath. "I'm not sure what to say to that."

"Listen. I understand if you don't feel the same way. I never asked you if you had any interest in men before so I was really putting it on the line here. I'll understand if you say no."

Jericho heard the words, but he knew the truth behind them. Christian would be crushed. Still, that wasn't what concerned Jericho so much. It was the powerful effect his outpouring had put on him. His chest was tight and he felt weak in the knees. He replayed the words in his head. Then he realized it.

"Did you say you loved me?"

"Yeah. I love you."

Jericho felt a shiver go up his spine and instantly he turned to walk towards the couch. He flopped down into the cold leather with his hand on his chest. He still couldn't believe it. He had never expected this. Never seen it coming. Then Christian was there in front of him, kneeling down so he could look him in the eye. As he looked into his friend's face Jericho felt something odd inside of him. He barely understood it, but knew what it was.

"I need to know you answer. Please, tell me even if it's no, never, not in a million years. I can't keep this up not knowing what might develop between us."

"Christian, I honestly never expected this from you. I never thought you felt this way. You talk about being clueless about my feelings for you… Well, this hit me like a chair shot from behind." He sat up straight again so he could be closer to Christian, hesitantly reaching to take his hands in his own trembling ones. "I'll be honest with you. I really like you, but I don't think I love you."

Christian's shoulders sank and he looked down instantly. "I understand, Chris. It's perfectly okay. We can still be friends."

"But you didn't let me finish." Christian looked back up at him. Bright blue eyes met ocean teal and locked, unable to let him look away again. "I don't love you, but I think I could. I never thought of you like that because I never thought you'd have any interest in me. I think… I really think we should give it a try."

The joy that filled Christian's eyes was more than enough of a reward for Jericho. Instantly tears were streaming down the other man's face and he pushed himself into his arms. Jericho smiled, liking the feeling of Christian against his chest. He tightened his hold on him then rested his cheek on the top of his head, listening to Christian's nervous and happy babble about how hard it had been to come out in the open with his feelings and how Paul London was to thank for it. Jericho made a note of that and decided to call the new guy up eventually.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?" He looked down at Christian, who had turned his face up to look at him. "What is it?"

"Can I… I mean, can I—"

Jericho beat him to it, leaning down and very lightly kissing Christian's lips. He tasted like coconut because of his drink. He moved to pull back, but Christian followed and pressed his mouth more firmly to Jericho's. Christian's hand came up to touch his cheek tenderly. Slowly his fingers trailed back into Jericho's blond waves and held him still. It was as if he was afraid Jericho would run.

"Mmm. Chris… Christian." Jericho tried to speak between kisses. "Hey!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry," Christian grinned and blushed.

"Whoa there, feisty. One step at a time okay? I'm still kinda…"

"It's okay I know. I was the same way long time ago. I'll back off."

"Phew. Who knew you were the super passionate type."

Christian only laughed, getting interrupted by a ringing phone. Jericho jumped to his feet and ran to answer the phone, which was lying on the kitchen table. Christian meanwhile retrieved his drink from where he had set it earlier. He looked out of the window again, smiling smugly to himself. He was proud that he had finally shown his true feelings to Jericho. And he was ecstatic that he hadn't been rejected.

"Christian."

He turned to smile at his new love, but his smile quickly faded. Jericho's face had paled slightly and he looked worried sick. Instantly, Christian knew it had to involve Rob. He strode quickly across the apartment, snatching Jericho's coat from the back of a chair as he moved in front of him.

"What happened?" he asked as he helped Jericho into his jacket.

"Rob was attacked while at therapy. He said it was Kane."

"Let's go."

Christian grabbed his keys from the table and turned towards the door. Jericho was already pushing the button on the elevator down the hall.

**End Chapter 4**

_Legalities: Christian Cage is copyright of TNA Wrestling. Chris Jericho is copyright to himself. Rob Van Dam, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


	5. Chapter 5

**High Flyer No More**

**By Archangel**

_**Chapter 5**_

"Are you sure he's okay?" Jericho insisted once again.

"Yes, boys, he's perfectly fine. The fall hurt his back, but caused no damage what so ever," the doctor explained.

"I told you I feel fine now that they gave me some aspirin," Rob said. "I just wanna go home."

"We'll give you a ride back," Christian said.

"Cool."

"I suggest possibly hiring some extra security to keep guard, Mr. Van Dam. You don't want this man making another appearance."

"That's not gonna happen. He just wanted to get it through to me that he wasn't responsible. It's over and done now." Rob sighed. "No more Kane. At least not in my life."

"You're better off," Jericho said.

"You keep telling me that and I keep not listening," Rob smirked.

Jericho rolled his eyes. "Just have to save the world, don't ya? If someone's not happy Rob has to change that."

"Leave him alone, Chris," Christian chuckled.

"Bah. Is he all ready to go then?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Jericho."

Rob and Christian both snickered a bit.

"What are you assclowns laughing at?"

"Nothing, Mr. Jericho," Rob said causing Christian to start laughing.

"That sounds so stupid!"

"Oh yeah, and Mr. Christian doesn't sound hauntingly familiar and equally dumb."

Rob laughed at the reference to the old novel, pointing at Christian.

"Oh, shut up," he whined.

Finally Jericho took control of the situation and managed to get the two laughing and joking men out of the rehabilitation center without more trouble. This time, Jericho helped Rob into the Expedition and did so much quicker than Christian had managed before. Of course, he used that fact to add fuel to the fire and the teasing and arguing continued through most of the ride back to Rob's house. Over halfway there Jericho's cell phone rang loudly.

"Damn it, why the hell does everyone have that awful Star Wars ring tone?" Rob asked as Christian scrambled to answer the phone while Jericho drove.

"Hello? … No, you got the right number, Matt. Chris is driving right now. … Um, no I haven't." He leaned into the front seat. "Hey, when was the last time either of you saw or heard from Jeff?"

"Hardy? Not since Rob's party," Jericho said.

"I talked to him on the phone about three days ago," Rob said.

Christian repeated the information back to the worried older brother on the other end of the line. "Oh yeah? … Damn that sounds kinda weird. … What about? … Um, okay. We're dropping Rob off at home right now then Chris and I will come over there."

"What are we doing?" Jericho demanded.

"Okay, Matt. … See ya later," and Christian hung up.

"Hey, what did you rope us into?"

"Nothing big. Matt hasn't seen Jeff in a couple days and he's worried. He wants to talk to us about something."

"Matt Hardy wants to talk to you and me? Civilized?"

"He said it's important."

"Well, we can go right there if you want. You don't have to drop me off," Rob said.

Christian frowned a little. "He said he doesn't want you there."

Rob blinked. "Oh. Well, okay that's cool."

"Did he say what it was about, sweetie?" Jericho asked.

"No, not really. I'm assuming it has something to do with Jeff."

"Sweetie?" Rob interrupted with a grin.

"Oh! Um…" Jericho's cheeks flushed red instantly.

Christian chuckled a bit and leaned forward to whisper in Rob's ear.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"When?"

"Just today."

Rob looked back at Jericho. "Awww! How cute!"

"Fuck you, Rob."

Christian and Rob both fell into peals of laughter for the hundredth time that day.

Matt opened the front door to be greeted by Jericho and Christian. Well, more like to be glared at by Jericho and greeted by Christian. He and the King of the World had never really gotten along very well, but usually managed to remain tactfully polite. He stepped aside to let them in.

"So, still no word from Jeff?" Christian asked.

"No. It's starting to really bug me."

"Doesn't he tend to wander off from time to time, though, Matt?" Jericho asked.

"Yeah, but… Lately… Well, just sit down and let me explain why I'm so jumpy this time."

The men made their way through the humble home into the living room, which was cluttered with dirty clothes, bags of chips, video games, and DVD's tossed about. Matt seemed unaffected by the condition of his house and made no apologies. He did offer drinks to them in the form of water or soda, which both declined. Finally he sat down in a chair opposite the couch and tried to explain himself.

"You guys do remember that Jeff had to spend some time in counseling for a little while, right?"

"Yeah, I do," Christian said.

"I thought that was just because of your mother?" Jericho asked.

"That's what we thought originally, that mom's death had left Jeff with a bunch of unresolved issues. Turns out it didn't really have anything to do with it."

"So what was wrong?" Christian asked.

"I don't know all of the details. I'm not exactly Jeff's guardian or anything so there's a lot of stuff I'm not allowed to know about those sessions he used to have. I was informed that his problems were caused by someone in the business. That he was obsessed with someone who had beaten him almost every time they had fought."

"Is it one of us? Is that why we're here?" Jericho asked.

"No, I don't think it's either of you. See, Jeff started acting weird… Well, weirder than usual not long before RVD took his fall from that ladder."

Jericho and Christian both sat up straighter.

"Are you saying that you think Jeff was behind this?" Jericho demanded.

"I don't know," he said nervously. "I can't imagine Jeffy ever doing something like that. You know how he is. He's a kind hearted person."

"Unless you make him mad," Christian added.

Matt frowned, obviously torn. "I just don't know. I kept trying to tell myself that I was imagining things, but then I found these in Jeff's room today."

He handed Jericho a stack of DVD's. Christian looked over his shoulder as he sifted through them. Each one had handwritten labels that must've been written by Jeff. All of them had the name of the event, the date, the type of match, and his opponent written on them. Every single match was Jeff Hardy versus Rob Van Dam.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Jericho asked.

"I just found them today. I only had a small hunch before now."

"You do realize that you're telling us your psychotic brother has been missing for two days, is obsessed with Rob, and we just left him alone at his house about an hour ago!" Jericho exclaimed as he stood up.

"I'm sorry! If I had realized what was going on I would've stopped him!" Matt yelled back.

Jericho merely threw the DVD's at him and took off from the house with Christian right on his heels. Christian didn't even have to ask where Jericho was going. He knew. He remained silent and locked his seatbelt securely as Jericho floored it, driving back in the direction they had come.

Matt stood on the front porch, watching the dust trail the Expedition left behind as it tore down the dirt drive from his house. He rubbed his forehead where one of the DVD cases had hit him, thinking about what he should do. He had been trying to stay home as much as possible in hopes that Jeff would return. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized Jeff wasn't coming back yet. He looked at where he had last seen Jericho's taillights fade into the oncoming night with a new determined expression. He knew what he had to do.

Rob whistled to himself as he shuffled a few things around inside his refrigerator, looking for something appetizing. All of his leftovers were either too far gone to be edible anymore, or just plain old unappealing. He frowned a bit and grabbed a soda before closing the door.

"Hmm… What to eat, what to eat," he muttered to himself as he started looking through the cupboards.

Just then he heard the front door open and slam shut. He sat up, looking at the kitchen doorway with curiosity. He heard no further sounds.

"Hello! Who's here?" he called and pushed himself through the living room into the foyer.

The foyer was empty. He looked around for any sign that someone had come in, but there were no shoes or jackets left near the door. He looked into the upstairs thinking maybe whoever it was had rushed to the bathroom. Hurricane was notorious for that sometimes since he lived nearby, but sometimes just couldn't make it all the way home. Amazing how bad a super hero's eating habits could be at times. The bathroom door was standing wide open, though. Rob shrugged figuring he must've just been imagining it. He started back towards the kitchen, but before he got there he could hear drawers opening and being slammed shut. He hesitated.

"Alright, guys! I hear you! Now quit trying to freak me out!" he laughed half-heartedly.

Once in the kitchen he looked around and saw no sight of anyone. He hadn't been imagining the drawers being opened, though. One of them had been left ajar. Rob pulled it open idly. He blinked with confusion at first because the drawer was now empty. Then he remembered what he usually kept in there. One of those fancy expensive knife sets that could cut through whole tennis shoes with no effort. His heart was starting to race. He spun his chair around and looked panicked about the kitchen. Still no sign of life aside from his own.

"Fuck this," he whispered and headed back towards the front door.

He stuck his head through the living room door and watched carefully for a moment or two before moving forward. The foyer was the most brightly lit area of the house. It made him feel the safest until he realized there were four doorways and the entire upstairs to be attacked from. He decided he'd be better off trying to get the hell out instead of finding the intruder. In his condition he wouldn't be able to fight like he had been before. He cursed the wheelchair and his useless lower body for the millionth time since the accident as he opened the front door. Suddenly something silver flashed in the edge of his vision and his body reacted on its own, ducking down and covering his head. There was a loud thud next to him. When he looked up he saw one of his knives wedged into the door frame.

"Fuck!" he heard a male voice exclaim from behind him.

That was Rob's cue to go. Without looking back he shoved at the wheels of his chair as fast and as hard as he could muster. Already a plan had formed in his mind. His closest neighbors were directly across the street and, as much as he didn't want to endanger anyone else, he needed help. The problem was that Rob's house was over a mile away from the road. He had planned the construction himself, putting plenty of forest and field between his home and the busy road that ran in front. Now the only part of his plans that seemed intelligent was the fact that he'd built the house on a hill. He now had a good slope to help him hurry.

There was a metal clang to his right as he started down the driveway. A second later his right arm exploded with pain that caused him to cry out. One of the knives had bounced off the hood of his car and sliced him. It was deep and the blood began to pour instantly. He growled and continued forward; ignoring the pain it caused to push the chair now. He was actually already picking up speed. Thought of the curves in the driveway entered his head. Hopefully he'd manage to turn the chair and navigate them without crashing.

He wanted to glance over his shoulder to see who was behind him and how close they were. He'd watched enough slasher movies in his day to know that it would spell out his doom. If you looked back you would trip over something and never get up in time to run away. If you were a girl you'd twist your ankle. As far as his situation went, one wheel would hit a rock or something and he'd be screwed because he couldn't even get to his feet once dumped from the chair. Fear was coursing through him, making his heart pound in his ears like drums. Sweat and blood covered his body. His arm felt like it would fall off any second, but the adrenaline pumping through him made him keep going. If he could just make it to the front gates.

There was another metallic sound and suddenly the right wheel of Rob's chair halted. The whole contraption spun to the right and toppled over, spilling him roughly to the concrete. He rolled to a stop, new scrapes and bruises making themselves known loud and clear already. Surprisingly his back didn't protest the fall as it usually did any movement. Rob wasted no time to recover. He knew whoever was after him had a great advantage. The person could run. He quickly hoisted himself up onto his elbows and pulled himself into the bushes and trees that lined this section of the drive. He could only hope that in the black of the night and under the shadows of the forest he could manage to hide out. Unless the person had a flashlight. Then another thought entered his head. His dragging legs would leave an obvious trail through the leaves and dirt. He cussed in his head, screaming at his body all the obscenities he could come up with. He kept dragging himself along, pausing to listen for footsteps or any other sounds now and then.

It was only a moment later that he heard a twig snap. He halted and ducked down to the ground, keeping only his head up to look around as best as possible. He realized then he had stopped right in the middle of a clearing where the canopy overhead parted. The moon was full and shone down upon the area, and him, like a spotlight. Again he cussed, but still made no moves. Then he heard footsteps drawing closer. He froze. There was nowhere he could go. The person was in front of him and heading straight for him. It was as if they knew exactly where he was.

Some branches rustled in front of him and then were pushed aside. For a moment Rob could only see a faint outline in the shadows. Then whoever the person was lit a match. Rob had never been more relieved in all his life.

"Jeff! Oh, thank god it's you."

Jeff used the match to light the old style lantern he was carrying then came over to Rob. He knelt down next to him.

"Rob, what's going on? Shit, you're hurt."

"Someone broke into my house. They're after me. And they know how to throw knives."

"What happened to the chair, man?"

"I got dumped. I think the guy aimed for a wheel and it got jammed or something." Rob pushed himself up, his right arm trembling as fresh blood started to trace patterns through the dirt that covered him. "We've gotta get outta here. I don't know where the guy is."

"Don't worry. I've been watching you lately. I think everything's gonna be fine now."

Rob nodded some. "So that's where you've been. Matt was worried about you."

"He doesn't need to worry. I'm just doing what I need to do."

Rob felt a chill go up his spine. Something in Jeff's tone of voice was setting off alarms in his head. Slowly he raised his head and looked up at Jeff, staring straight into his green eyes. What he saw there chilled him straight to the core. He realized precisely what was happening at that moment.

"You. It's been you all the time."

"Oh, wow. You figured it out. And here I thought that a pot smoking moron like you would be oblivious all the way up till the end when I shoved this big shiny butcher knife through your chest."

Rob looked at the knife Jeff was pulling from where it had been hooked on his belt. The entire set was set into the leather on either side of Jeff's hips. Why hadn't Rob noticed them before? He looked back up at Jeff, trying his damnedest to keep the terror within him hidden.

"Why do you want to kill me? I've never had anything against you. We were working together for a long time even."

"That didn't last as long as you think. And that doesn't mean a damn thing to me now." He suddenly lashed out with one boot and kicked Rob's cut open shoulder, knocking him onto his back and getting a cry of pain from him. "Robbie, do you realize that I have never won a match against you? Do you realize that? No, I bet you don't. You don't even know how many times you've won the IC Title. Well, let me tell you Rob. It's been eight times! Learn to count!"

He kicked him in the same shoulder again, his boot tearing the gash open more. Rob howled in pain, clutching at the wound in a small attempt to stop the bleeding. He was already feeling lightheaded.

"I'm sorry, Jeff. Titles don't matter to me that much."

"Don't lie to my face, you motherfucker! If they don't matter then why did you hold the TV Champ belt for almost two straight years in ECW? Because Heyman told you so? I doubt that was the only reason. You're a selfish, cocky, arrogant, bastard who doesn't give a shit about anyone but yourself. Oh, and your precious Kane. Let's not forget about him."

"What the hell does he have to do with this?" he asked confusedly.

"Like you don't know! You asshole! How many times did I ask you out during our ECW days! And how many times did you say 'Sorry Jeffy, but I don't swing that way.' And what's the first thing I hear after you start tagging with Kane? You're his bitch!"

"What! Fuck no! No one ever said that about us!"

"Bullshit! Everyone said it, but not to your damn face." He pulled back and kicked Rob as hard as he could in the stomach. "You loved him. Everyone could see it. Every time you looked at him it was written all over your face. But guess what! He rejected you! He didn't just reject you, he tried to kill you! Multiple times!"

Rob coughed, trying to regain his breath after the savage kick, and glared up at Jeff. "Fuck you, Hardy! It's no ones business what went on between me and Kane! And as for you, you're too damned scrawny for me to be interested!"

Rob realized too late that it was a big mistake to say something like that to someone who had a knife in their hand. Jeff's usually pleasant face contorted with hurt rage, his fists clenched so hard that his whole body shook. He threw back his head and screamed then threw himself at Rob, who quickly rolled aside. Jeff pounced on his back a second later, but Rob had anticipated the move and knocked him off with a swing of one arm. Unfortunately he had swung with the arm that was sliced and ended up only opening it further. He instantly grabbed it, crying out in agony, and giving Jeff the perfect opening. Instantly the younger man was straddling Rob's waist. The injured arm was pinned under Jeff's knee while he held the other pinned above Rob's head. Rob tried to struggle, but he had never realized how strong Jeff was.

"You've humiliated me for the last time, Rob Van Dam. It wasn't enough that I paralyzed you and completely ruined your hopes of ever wrestling again. No, your little friends had to start spreading rumors and threatening lives in order to keep that damn IC belt in your hands. You're a washed up has been and you still hold a title! So, I've had it. If you want that title so bad, then they can bury you with it!"

Rob's eyes locked on the flash of silver as Jeff raised the knife above his head. It was exactly like a horror movie. The whole world seemed to go silent and stop. He couldn't even hear his heart beating or his ragged panting breaths. He was sure he screamed in protest, but he didn't hear it. His eyes were filled with the sight of the huge butcher knife gleaming in the moonlight. Then it came rushing down towards his chest. He closed his eyes and tensed, but suddenly the weight was lifted from him. His hearing returned as he heard a familiar cry of anger. He turned his head to see Jeff fighting off Rob's newest best friend.

"Christian!"

Rob tried to force himself up, but his arm refused to function properly. Then strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him. He looked up to see Jericho. The blond haired man was obviously frantic as he tried to pull Rob to his feet in hopes of getting him away from the situation. A crash and a loud scream of pain stopped them. Christian was curled into the fetal position on the ground, crying out in agony where he had obviously been thrown into a tree. Jeff, meanwhile, had turned his eyes swiftly to Jericho and Rob. He had lost the butcher knife in the scuffle, but it meant nothing. He still had plenty of arsenal hooked on his belt.

"And where do you two think you're going? Jericho and Christian think they're super heroes, huh? I thought it was Hurricane's job to be a bumbling idiot and act like a fool hearted hero! That's fine with me, though. I've never liked either of you two anyway. So you can just die with your friend!"

Jeff grabbed another knife from his belt and pulled his arm back, ready to throw, his eyes locked straight on Jericho's chest. Another sound made everyone come to a dead stop; the sound of a gun being cocked. Another person stepped from out of the shadows. Matt made for an eerie sight, dressed in solid black with his equally dark hair hanging loose around his face. He raised the shotgun slowly to his hip, the barrel pointed at his brother. Jeff's face became filled with surprise.

"Matt? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from making the biggest mistake of your life."

Jeff laughed coldly. "Oh, is that so? My big brother comes once again to make another decision for me! I'm so fucking lucky to have someone so wise to look over me!"

"Jeff, please, just stop this," Matt says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. "If you continue with this you'll be locked up for the rest of your life. Or worse, they'll give you the death penalty."

"For what? For taking revenge that I so rightly deserve? For snuffing out that ever gleaming ray of sunshine named Rob Van Dam? Fuck that! He deserves it!"

"No, he doesn't, Jeff. For all the times he beat you in the ring, he was also a good friend to you. He didn't beat you as an insult. He simply did his best and you lost fair and square every time."

Jeff screamed at him for that. "Quit reminding me! I know I'm a loser! Why do you think I left the business?"

The brothers continued to bicker and argue as they had always seemed to do. Jericho glanced back and forth between them for a moment before muttering to Rob to not say a word. Slowly, he lifted Rob off the ground somewhat and started pulling him back in the direction of the driveway where his vehicle was still running and waiting. Unfortunately, he stumbled and the noise drew Jeff's attention. He threw the knife he had been holding without a second thought, burying it in the tree trunk right beside Jericho's head. That was when Christian saw his moment and leapt onto Jeff's back.

"Chris, get him out of here!" Christian yelled as he wrestled Jeff to the ground.

Before he could even think to throw a punch, he was flipped onto his back. He heard the sound of the knife being unsheathed and felt it sink into his shoulder less than a second later. He screamed, fighting with the psychotic purple haired man kneeling next to him. The knife withdrew just as painfully and plunged down again, hitting lower and further into his body. He knew Jeff was aiming for the center of his chest. A little further over and he would hit his lung. Only his struggles kept him off his mark. Jeff pulled back with a frustrated grunt and raised the knife once again. Christian closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't miss again.

The night was shattered by a bellowing gun shot. Once again everything froze. The only sounds were panted breaths. Christian finally scrambled away from Jeff as best he could, but Jeff paid no attention. He slowly looked down at his stomach, the knife falling from his hand. Blood was quickly soaking through what was left of the gray wife beater. He turned slowly and looked up in shock at Matt, his lips parting to question him and blood starting to pour from his mouth. Matt had a shocked and frightened expression. The gun fell from his hands to the dirt, completely forgotten.

"Mm… Matty…" Jeff managed to whimper before his body pitched forward to the ground.

"Jeff!" Matt's scream echoed through the night as he rushed to his brother's side. "Oh god Jeffy, I'm so sorry! Look at me! Jeffy, please, look at me!"

The others watched in mute sorrow as Matt clutched his brother to his chest, wailing and pleading with a higher power to forgive him. Another sound could be heard even over his cries. It was the sound of police sirens, but it gave none of the men any relief.

They sky was filled with thick gray clouds, refusing to let a single ray of sun through. It was fitting considering the event that had taken place. In the middle of a cemetery, far from the barred fences and the prying eyes of wrestling fans, underneath a majestic weeping willow tree stood two men. Each were dressed in black suits, both looking clean shaven, one with long black hair pulled firmly black, the other with one arm in a sling. They were silent. Their thoughts were their own as they stared down at the open grave with the casket lowered far below. Tear trailed slowly down Matt's face yet not a sound came from him and he made no effort to dry his face. He stepped up to the gravestone and kneeled down, running a hand over the cold stone and reading it aloud.

"Yours truly, Jeff Hardy. Ours truly, this life." There was more, but it was merely a birth date and the day it had come to an end. "Dad didn't want it to say that, but I got the best of him for once."

"It's good. He said that a lot," Christian said quietly, adjusting his sling.

"How's your shoulder?"

"It hurts some, but I've got stuff to take care of that. They said the surgery went fine and I should be able to go back to the show in a couple months."

"That's good. I've decided to take off myself. Well, I was encouraged to do so by Vince and by my therapist. They said my anti-depressants could hinder my ability in the ring." He looked up at Christian. "I don't think I can stand to go back ever. All I would think of his Jeff. About the Hardy Boyz, and our damn feuds, and the break up."

"That's understandable, Matt. Everyone will understand." He paused for a moment before asking nervously. "I heard they questioned you a lot."

"Yeah. They just needed to make sure my story was the same as everyone else's. They knew Jeff and I hadn't always gotten along." His voice cracked in the middle of his sentence. "They wanted to make sure I didn't do it on purpose."

"We all know that's not true. You saved our lives."

"I know," he whispered, "but I killed my baby brother."

Before Christian could offer any further condolences, a voice came from behind them. It was Jericho and Rob, Jericho helping Rob get the wheelchair through the uneven grass without crossing over any of the other graves. Matt climbed to his feet and came to them, leaning down to take Rob into a tight embrace.

"Rob, I'm so sorry. I know Jeff is, too. He wasn't in his right mind."

"Hey, hey… It's okay, Matt. You don't have to apologize." Rob rubbed his back soothingly. "I didn't get attacked by your brother. That night… That wasn't Jeff. Whoever that was killed our Jeffy a long time ago without us even knowing."

Matt sobbed in response to his words. Rob could feel the man's knees shaking so he pulled him forward and into his lap to save him from falling to the ground. Christian stepped forward and wrapped him arms around Matt as well, petting his hair. Jericho looked on for a moment, but listening to Matt's mournful cries was too much and he joined in the group hug. Somehow, even though his heart still ached, Matt felt comforted by their embrace.

**End Chapter 5**

_Legalities: Christian Cage is copyright of TNA Wrestling. Chris Jericho is copyright to himself. Rob Van Dam, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


	6. Chapter 6

**High Flyer No More**

**By Archangel**

_**Epilogue**_

That all happened over a year ago. I'm sure you all remember hearing it all over the news and reading about it magazines. I really wish they would've reported it differently. It made Jeffy sound like a lunatic stalking and trying to kill me. It wasn't like that, as you can all see now. He was just sick and didn't get the help he needed. I still love him and miss him every day. I forgive him for what happened. It wasn't his fault.

Forgiveness, unfortunately, is a thing that easier to give to others than it is to give to yourself. Perfect example being Matt Hardy. To this day he has never forgiven himself for taking Jeff's life, despite the fact that he had been given no other choice. He completely forgot about the fact that he saved me, Jericho, and Christian, focusing only on his brother. Not that I can blame him. I'd probably go completely out of my mind if in the same situation. Matt has actually healed rather well considering everything. Oh, he's still in counseling and he's still on anti-depressants, but he didn't quit WWE like he had thought he would. Instead he takes comfort in being in the ring. And instead of being upset from memories of wrestling with Jeff, he uses them as his strength and dedicates his career to his brother's memory. He's starting to slowly get better. It nice to see him smile and laugh again. I'm so glad he made it through such a horrible ordeal.

Jay's injuries healed just fine thanks to an amazing doctor who did the surgery on his shoulder. Big thumbs up to that dude! Now a days Jay doesn't have any pain what so ever and can move around and rough house just like he always did before. Much to his boyfriend's delight. Oh, wait. I mean, HUSBAND!

Some of you may have heard about that, but for those who didn't Jay Reso and Chris Irvine are married! This actually makes them Jay Reso-Irvine and Chris Irvine-Reso. How cute is that? Hyphenated names and all. I got to be part of the wedding, too, on Christian's side. Though, I'm not sure if I was the Best Man or the Maid of Honor. Haha, Jay's gonna hit me for that one.

Then, that leaves me. Surprisingly I think I came out of it all with the fewest amount of scars. Well, maybe only physically. Wait. I'm confusing myself. Point is that I'm doing fine. Things are definitely getting good and I believe that they can only get better!

"Rob Van Dam! Only one minute!"

Rob looked up at the call, wondering why they were yelling for him when he was sitting right there. He shrugged and read over the last paragraph of writing before closing the laptop and slipping it into his bag, which he hid in the shadows under the stairs. He heard the music start and the pyros went off somewhere over his head. He smiled and got to his feet, stepping through the curtain, and opening his arms to accept the cheers of the crowd. He made his way down the ramp as Lillian announced his return with joy lacing her beautiful voice. He paused to do his thumb hook as she said his name, reveling in the sounds of the crowd chanting along.

He stopped beside the ring and looked up at the ladder in front of him. Thoughts of his last meeting with a ladder started to creep up on him, but he mentally shoved them in the trash. Instead, he thought of Jeff Hardy. He nodded to himself, feeling reassured.

"For you, Jeffy."

With that, Rob ducked slightly and walked under the ladder before rolling into the ring.

_**The End**_

_Legalities: Christian Cage is copyright of TNA Wrestling. Chris Jericho is copyright to himself. Rob Van Dam, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


End file.
